


an acquired life

by paravin



Series: just a different kind [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Past Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: After a few weeks together at the Tower, Saint-14 and Osiris invite Crow over for the evening.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny), The Crow/Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Series: just a different kind [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180688
Comments: 12
Kudos: 97





	an acquired life

**Author's Note:**

> shameless pwp. I have no idea who other than me would want to read this but I wanted to write it so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Quick caveat that while this fic is all fully consensual porn, there are some non-explicit references to Crow having a not-great sexual history so please give this a miss if that’s an area of concern <3

“Osiris wishes to invite you for dinner,” Saint-14 says one afternoon, “and also for sex.”

Crow chokes on his drink. His response comes out as a wheeze and Saint pats him helpfully on the back as he says, “I suppose I should have waited for you to swallow first.”

Coupled with his previous statement, Crow’s mind goes somewhere it shouldn’t, and he coughs, clearing the water from his lungs as he tries to piece together what’s happening.

Saint watches him placidly, plucking off a scrap of bread and tossing it in front of a chunky pigeon loitering nearby.

(The pigeon’s name is Monty. Crow has learned a lot in his time in the hangar with Saint, not least the names of most of the birds.)

“Osiris is inviting me for sex,” he says, trying to make sure he’s understood. Sure, he hears things sometimes, but that’s usually mysterious messages during wrathborn hunts, not his friends propositioning him.

“Yes,” Saint says. He pauses. “Well, he’s inviting you for dinner. _We_ are inviting you for dinner. The sex is intended to happen afterwards, if everyone agrees, but I thought you should be fully informed.” He hunches a little, guilty. “Osiris may have told me not to mention the sex.”

Crow watches Monty waddle happily from bread to bread as he tries to piece this together.

“Why?” he says eventually. “The two of you are…” He trails off, lacking the right words to define them. “Why do you need me?”

“We do not need you,” Saint says simply. “It would just be a nice experience, as an exception. We thought you might enjoy it.”

Crow is grateful for the cover of the hood as he catches his lip between his teeth. He doesn’t think he’s ever had sex just for enjoyment, at least not as he is now, and the thought of doing so with Osiris and Saint makes his chest tighten with anxiety.

“I-” He stops, fumbling for the right words. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It is optional,” Saint says, and Crow can almost hear him frowning beneath the helmet. “If you are not interested in that way, then that is okay. Sometimes I miscalculate these things.”

Crow’s cheeks heat. “No, I-” 

He stumbles on the words — it feels too presumptuous, too demanding to voice his wants, especially after his time with Spider taught him the risks of showing interest in anything that could be taken away.

“You didn’t miscalculate,” he says in the end, feeling vulnerable at even that vague admission. “I just- I don’t think it would be a good decision.”

Even through the helmet, he can feel Saint’s eyes on him and he tucks his arms under his cloak in an effort to make himself smaller, less noticeable — an old bad habit Saint’s been trying to break him out of.

“Are you sure?” Saint says. “It’s your choice, of course, but I think it would be good for you. You need to have some fun — you are all work.”

The familiar mirth in his voice makes Crow smile a little in spite of himself. “So you’re telling me to take up sex as a hobby?”

“I am telling you to switch that little brain off for once,” Saint says, reaching out to tap the side of Crow’s head. “I can hear it whirring from here.” . 

Crow flinches back from the raised hand and Saint stops instantly, lowering his arm before he can make contact.

“I’m sorry-” Crow starts but Saint shushes him.

“No apologies,” Saint says firmly. “You will get there.”

Crow’s smile is empty. “You can see why sex might be a bad plan.”

“Nonsense. We would not ask if we didn’t think it would help.” He reaches out again, slower this time, and rests a hand on Crow’s shoulder. “At least come for dinner, yes? I make good fish.”

Crow raises his eyebrows at that, looking up at Saint in surprise.

Saint just laughs. “What, you think I only cook stroganov? I am a very good cook.” He waves a hand. “Osiris, not so much. Always too much pepper.”

“You don’t need to take pity on me, you know,” Crow points out. “I know we work together but-”

“We are friends, are we not?” Saint says. “Friends spend time together.” He looks down as Monty chirrups impatiently by his boot. “Not just around pigeons.”

Crow shrugs, embarrassed. “I can’t say I’ve had much experience with the whole friend thing. The most I can usually hope for is people not shooting me on sight.”

“All the more reason for you to come for dinner,” Saint says happily. “It will be fun, I promise.”

Crow hesitates but nods. “All right.”

“Excellent!” Saint booms. A chunk of bread flies from his hand and Monty goes trotting off after it. “We will see you tonight!”

He heads to return to his station in the hangar and Crow does a double-take. “Wait, tonight?”

Saint scoffs. “As though I would give you time to second-guess. Tonight!”

He departs, Monty hot on his heels, and Crow leans back against the wall as he repeats, shell-shocked, “Tonight. Right.”

———

“Didn’t I tell you?” Saint says around his last mouthful of food. “Good fish.”

It’s strange, seeing Saint in this setting, without his armor and his usual accompaniment of hungry pigeons. (Although between Crow and Osiris, he supposes Saint still isn’t short on birds.) 

He’s still as jovial as always though, chattering away like this is the hundredth time Crow has been invited to someone's home, instead of the first, and Crow can’t help but smile as he takes another bite of his own food. “Very good. You were right.”

To his right, Osiris gives a skeptical hum. He looks older somehow, although Crow isn’t sure whether that’s down to the lack of armor or the loss of his ghost, but he’s also more relaxed than Crow’s ever seen him as he jabs his fork in Saint’s direction. “Could still use more pepper.”

Crow smirks as Saint leans back in his chair, waving a hand in demonstration. “You see? Always the pepper.”

“Excuse me for having taste,” Osiris retorts, and the lines around his eyes deepen when he smiles. “Is this what you two talk about all day? My seasoning preferences?” He looks to Crow. “I’ll have to take you on more expeditions. You were getting quite sharp during all those hunts — I won’t have this fool undoing all your progress.”

“I don’t-” 

“Psht,” Saint interrupts, “your seasoning preferences are not that exciting. We talk tactics! And we spar sometimes — our new friend is very sneaky. All of those exploding knives!”

Crow lowers his head to hide the smile that crosses his lips. He still feels exposed without the security of his cloak after Osiris insisted he leave it by the door, but he finds himself learning to trust the privacy of Saint and Osiris’ home more with each passing second.

“You and your explosions,” Osiris says, somewhere between chiding and fond. “Some of the greatest pleasures in this world are intricate mysteries, not just things that go boom.”

He pours himself another glass as he talks. The evening’s beverage is something smooth and light red, apparently from somewhere on Io, but Crow holds up his hand to decline when Osiris offers him some more. “I think I’ve had enough.”

Saint levels an accusatory glare at Osiris. “I told you he wouldn’t like it.”

“I do like it!” Crow protests, honestly. “I just need to work on my tolerance, I think.”

Filling up Saint’s glass, Osiris looks at him with curiosity. “I take it our arachnid friend wasn’t a fan of liquor?”

“For himself, yes,” Crow says. “Not so much for his pets.”

Beside him, he sees Saint tense with familiar anger but Osiris doesn’t bat an eyelid as he takes a sip of his drink. “We’ll have to work on broadening your repertoire. I think I have a bottle of decent sake somewhere I could give you.”

“I, uh- If you’re sure,” Crow stammers. “Thanks.”

The whiplash still catches him off-guard sometimes, particularly when the two of them are together. Saint never conceals an emotion, reacting with outrage to any perceived injustice, however fleeting or minor, and leaving Crow feeling anywhere between pitied and protected. Osiris, on the other hand, is placid as always, giving no sympathy but offering no judgment either. 

Crow isn’t sure which he likes better.

Finishing up his food, Osiris leans back in his chair and says easily, “You’re welcome to stay for the evening. We have some jasmine tea if you’d prefer.”

Crow gulps, gaze darting to Saint and then back to Osiris in time to see his eyes narrow.

“You told him.”

The accusation is directed at Saint who holds up his hands in self-defence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Osiris shakes his head, rising to his feet to clear the plates away. “You always were a terrible liar.”

“Okay, I might have told him,” Saint says, scooping up his and Crow’s plate and following Osiris to the kitchen. “What else was I supposed to do? He is nervous. I didn’t want to surprise him.”

“We said we’d raise the subject together!” Osiris snaps. 

Their voices lower to hushed whispers as the door closes behind them, and Crow takes a deep, steadying breath as he stares at the pepper mill in the center of the table. He considers bolting, just slipping out of the door before anyone ends up having sex with anyone else, but he barely makes it halfway to the exit before Saint emerges from the kitchen.

“I should go,” Crow says quickly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“Never,” Saint says. “It is no trouble.” He approaches, his footsteps quieter without the clank of armor, and Crow finds himself staring at Saint’s broad chest when he rests his hands on his shoulders. “We would very much like you to stay, but only if you are comfortable.”

One hand moves up, a finger crooked under Crow’s chin, and Crow swallows hard as he finds himself looking up into the glow of Saint’s eyes. His heart is pounding, loud enough that he thinks Saint must be able to hear it, and he can only manage a tiny nod in response.

Saint smiles, dipping down until his face is inches from Crow’s own as he says, teasing, “I still need to work on making you more talkative. I am not rubbing off on you enough, I think.”

That breaks through some of Crow’s nerves and he manages a smile. “I thought you liked the silent type.”

Saint chuckles. “Please, Osiris is never silent. Vex, vex, vex, now hive, hive, hive. With the occasional break to tell me about the clever new hunter he met.”

Crow’s cheeks darken at that, shoulders tensing in embarrassment, but Saint stops him before he can lower his eyes again. “He didn’t mention how handsome you are though.”

Crow tenses further, accustomed to mockery alongside any compliments, but when his lips part to respond, Saint leans down to catch them in a kiss.

His mouth is warmer than Crow expected, the firm plates shifting at miniscule angles to fit to Crow’s lips, and Crow can’t keep from pressing forward into the embrace. He knows this, knows the mechanics of it and the rhythm of a kiss, but actually doing it, at least as the man he is now, is an entirely new experience.

His face is flushed when they part and Crow fights the urge to apologise when Saint reaches up fondly to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Okay?”

He nods sheepishly and only finds himself relaxing again when Saint moves in for another kiss. His hands coast down Crow’s back and Crow yelps into the kiss when Saint grips the backs of his thighs to hoist him easily off the ground, deepening the kiss as he carries Crow across their apartment to the couch. 

Expecting to be maneuvered onto Saint’s lap — always Spider’s position of choice — Crow lets out an undignified squeak when he finds himself dropped to a seat on the couch. 

Saint settles between his thighs before he can ask anything further and Crow blinks dumbly as Saint goes to work unfastening his pants.

“So many belts,” Saint grumbles. “You need easier clothes.”

Unsure of where to put his hands, Crow tries to help him with the buckles but gets nudged away. His breath quickens when Saint’s hand slips inside his pants, working him free of the material with ease, and he stammers, helpless, “I haven’t- You don’t need to-”

Saint looks up, concerned. “You want to stop?”

“No,” Crow says quickly. It’s hard to find the right words past the confusing new rush of emotions, especially when Saint’s hand is working his dick in slow strokes, and Crow squirms under the touch. “I- I’ve given like this, but I don’t-”

He bites his lip to muffle a groan when Saint just smiles and takes the head of Crow’s cock into his mouth. Crow tenses, thighs itching to close but held open by the width of Saint’s body between them, and he curls his hands into nervous fists as Saint takes him deeper. 

Crow’s well acquainted with how it feels to have a cock down his throat but being on the receiving end is new and _good_. Saint’s mouth is hot and slick, Crow’s dick sliding deeper with ease, and Crow digs his fingernails into the meat of his palm to keep himself from reaching out to guide Saint deeper.

“You can touch him, you know.”

Crow jumps at the voice from behind him. Rationally, he knows this was all agreed but that doesn’t stop the burning shame that fills him at the sight of Osiris seeing them together like this. 

“I’m sorry,” Crow says, fumbling over the words. “I don’t-”

“He is new to this,” Saint says, pulling back off Crow’s dick and flashing Osiris a lazy smile. “Be nice to him.”

“I am nice,” Osiris says, with feigned offence, but Saint just laughs as he goes back to working Crow’s dick.

It’s not quite suction, not really — exo anatomy doesn’t lend itself to that — but the friction and the pressure is more than enjoyable as Crow’s cock slides against the plates of Saint’s throat. Osiris moves in to join them, crouching briefly beside the couch as he kisses Saint’s forehead.

“I wouldn’t worry,” he says, coaxing Crow to rest one hand against Saint’s head, “he enjoys a little roughness.”

It’s said in the same confident tone Osiris uses to impart most of his knowledge, and Crow finds himself oddly soothed by it as Saint bobs his head in a steady rhythm. Osiris moves behind Saint, lowering himself to his knees on the carpet with a wince, and Crow hesitates, concerned. “You’re still injured?”

“A strain,” Osiris says easily. His hands find the waist of Saint’s slacks and he slides them down until Crow can see the black and white plates of Saint’s lower back and the curve of his ass. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

Despite the dismissal, Crow finds himself clinging to the more normal topic of conversation, even as he watches Osiris work Saint open with his fingers. “Was it the Vex again?”

Crow’s cock slips free from Saint’s mouth as Saint says with amusement, “He was trying to reach the big orange pot at the back of the cupboard and stretched too far.”

Osiris’ eyes narrow. “I did not. I strained something sparring.”

“Ah, sparring, of course,” Saint says, nuzzling into the crease of Crow’s thigh. “With the big orange pot?”

Crow tries not to laugh at the scowl on Osiris’ face. It’s difficult. 

Saint’s teasing quickly turns into a surprised moan when Osiris grips his hips and drives home, flicking a glowing panel along Saint’s spine as he does so. “Stop talking and pay attention to our guest,” he says, only half chiding. “I doubt Crow came here to listen to you — he must get enough of that in the hangar.”

The glow of one of Saint’s eyes flickers on and off in a wink as he swallows Crow’s dick down again and Crow bites back a moan of his own as Osiris’ thrusts push Saint forward, the head of Crow’s cock nudging against the back of his throat. 

It feels far better than it has any right too, even with his lingering nerves about the setting, and he tries to control himself as he asks, breathing hard, “Do you, uh, do this often?”

Osiris smiles at that, shifting his knees to adjust his angle. “I take it you don’t mean with Saint?”

Crow shakes his head. “With other people. A third.”

“A few times,” Osiris says, “but that was a long time ago now. It’s been a while.”

The question sits on the tip of Crow’s tongue, but when the silence drags on for too long, Osiris asks it for him, “You’re wondering why you, aren’t you?”

Embarrassed, Crow nods. 

“It’s not pity if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Osiris says, blunt as ever. Saint lets out a grumble of protest from between his thighs but Osiris just pushes in quick and deep to shut him up. “We both like you. Your technique with hive summoning runes could use some work but you’re good company, and more interesting than most of the visitors to the Tower.”

“This is not a job interview,” Saint chides him, pulling off just enough to talk.

“He asked for background!” Osiris counters, and reaches over to nudge him back down. “But in short, we thought this would be enjoyable for all of us. Plus it would bring you out of your shell a little.”

Crow raises his eyebrows. “My shell.”

“Understandable, of course,” Osiris says. His breath grows shallower as his pace picks up and Crow bites his lip at the sight of his length sliding between Saint’s plates. “Between your situation on the Shore and the tension with some of the other Guardians, no-one could fault you for being cautious. But, ah-”

His words catch on a moan as he fucks in deep, and Saint finishes for him, stroking Crow slowly while kissing along the base of his cock. “-you are safe here. We will look after you.”

He’s as sincere as always — Crow wonders if Saint’s ever said anything he doesn’t truly believe — but Crow can’t pull together a response past the heated tangle in his chest. He blinks away his blurred vision and settles for a mute nod in return, trying to focus back on the physical sensations coursing through him instead of this new, not-unpleasant tilt to his worldview.

With Saint’s mouth on his dick again, Crow can feel it when Osiris comes with a groan. He thrusts hard, pushing Saint forward enough that his chin brushes Crow’s balls, and Crow shivers happily at the contraction of Saint’s throat around his length. 

All three of them are breathing hard when Osiris pulls out to sit back on his heels and Crow whines a little at the lack of stimulation when Saint replaces his mouth with his hand again to ask, “Are you okay to change?”

More than prepared to return the favor, Crow nods. He sinks to his knees as Saint moves to sit on the couch beside him but blinks when Saint just pats his thigh instead. “Up here. I’ll take it slow.”

This, at least, is something Crow’s done before. He clambers willingly up to sit astride Saint’s lap but before he can settle, Osiris is at his back. He loses track of whose hands are where as the two of them maneuver him into position until he’s tucked between them, his back to Saint’s chest, his knees either side of Saint’s thighs, and his face level with Osiris’ chest. 

Every touch is careful and slow, even as they push his pants down his thighs, and begin to work him open with slick fingers, and Crow tips his head back with a gasp when Osiris’ hand wraps around the length of his still-hard cock. 

“That’s it…”

Saint’s voice rumbles through him, his body a solid wall against Crow’s back, and Crow gasps at the feeling of something thick and firm easing its way inside him. Osiris cups his cheek, pulling him into a steadying kiss as Crow lowers himself down onto Saint’s dick, and Crow can’t help the little sob that escapes him at the rush of sensation sweeping over him from every angle.

“Shhh,” Saint murmurs, kissing the back of his neck. “You’re all right.”

Even with Crow staying mostly in place, he can feel the dick inside of him start to move, a gentle piston matched by the rock of Saint’s hips beneath him, and he moans at the added stimulation, his cock twitching in Osiris’ hand. “Please…”

The thrusts get firmer, the ridges of Saint’s cock rubbing inside him, and Crow writhes in desperation. Between the bodies moving against him and the hands running over him, the heat is almost suffocating and he gasps for air as Osiris kisses the column of his throat, still jerking his cock in relentless strokes.

Saint’s hand comes to rest against Crow’s hips to guide him downward, and Crow can feel the vibration of his voice as he murmurs fondly, “Such a determined little bird…”

Crow can’t help but tense at the name. Even with the rush of stimulation, he doesn’t miss the sharp look Osiris aims at Saint over Crow’s shoulder, but Crow just shakes his head as he pulls Osiris into another kiss. 

The name might be the same but this here with the two of them feels about as far from his time in Spider’s lair as he could imagine. It echoes in his head, Saint’s thick accent and gentle appreciation overriding the disdain that always dripped from Spider’s tone, and as Osiris’ tongue curls against his own, Crow pushes down eagerly onto Saint’s dick, the surge of want still cresting inside him.

“Please,” he gasps, breath ragged against Osiris’ lips. “Please, I need-”

“Whatever you want,” Saint soothes, not slowing his thrusts. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Crow nods, forehead resting against Osiris’ as he fights for air. Everything is new and intense, from the thick cock inside him to the four hands helping to keep him upright, and as Saint fucks into him, he can’t keep it together any longer. 

He comes harder than he ever has before, almost blacking out for a second as the force of it races through him. His thighs are shaking, his body wrung out from the barrage of stimulation, and his mind feels like it’s floating as he fumbles to regain his grip on reality.

When he comes back to himself, he’s still entangled with both Saint and Osiris, but now sprawled out on the couch. 

He can’t even remember being moved but there’s nothing but a slick wetness inside him as he leans against Saint’s chest, his legs propped across Osiris’ lap. “What-”

He can feel the vibration of Saint’s laugh as he kisses Crow’s head. “Back with us, I see.”

Something cold brushes his palm and he looks down to see Osiris pressing a glass of water into his hands. “Drink. It will help.”

Too dazed to argue, Crow complies. He’s still half-dressed and is grateful for the partial cover his rumpled shirt provides as the floating feeling begins to subside. His body aches pleasantly and he looks between his two hosts as Osiris yawns, resting his head against Saint’s shoulder. 

Saint’s fingers card through Crow’s sweat-damp hair and he can’t keep the tired smile from his lips as Saint asks gently, “Are you all right?”

Crow nods without hesitation. 

“Did you have fun?”

Another nod. It feels insufficient compared to the patient generosity they’ve shown him and so he tries to find better words to convey his gratitude. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “That was… intense.”

“Too much so?” Osiris asks, concerned, and Crow shakes his head.

“No. No, it was good. I just- I haven’t-” He gives up, too strung out to achieve coherency, and tucks himself more tightly against Saint’s body as he says again, sincere, “Thank you.” 

“Our pleasure,” Saint says, kissing him again. 

Crow can’t help the little sigh that escapes him at the contact but he wrinkles his brow at the realisation that he’s probably overstayed his welcome. “I should go.”

That’s met with a chuckle from Osiris, who gives his thigh a reassuring squeeze. “I’d recommend taking it easy a while longer. I don’t trust the cleaning frames to pick you up if you fall asleep in a stairwell on the way home.”

“Besides, you must stay for breakfast,” Saint says firmly. 

Crow’s eyes fall shut again, lulled by the soft whirr inside Saint’s chassis, and he lets himself slip back towards a peaceful sleep as Saint promises, “I make good eggs.”


End file.
